


Heart and Soul

by Grubbutts



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, College, M/M, Music, Piano, Piano Sex, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 21:18:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15980708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grubbutts/pseuds/Grubbutts
Summary: John believed that he did an great job on his piano recital performance, at least that is until he got comments about him looking too stiff and emotionless while playing.He's not sure what to do, a little lost on how to improve himself. That's when Dave has an idea: Have Bro teach him the finer ways of jamming out while tickling those ivories enough that they'll pee themselves.





	Heart and Soul

**Author's Note:**

> There's no porn in this chapter, but there probably will be in the next. Tags will be updated accordingly.

You sit there, twiddling your fingers together, your leg bouncing, your heartbeat racing even faster than when you were performing. They're announcing awards now, and with each second you're thinking back to the piece you played, Chopin’s Nocturne Op.9, a classic and a favorite of yours one that you've been practicing for months. You know for a fact that you had every note right, ok well maybe you fumbled on one or two but it was hardly noticeable to anyone other than yourself, and you remembered specifically decrescendo here, crescendo there, the accidental there, the keychange here. Everything was down pat, there's no reason you shouldn't get a good score, right? It was superior, surely.

 

“And the final award goes to Sollux Captor! Well done!”

 

Everyone else claps and cheers, but you don't because what the hell??? You're not that arrogant to be expecting first place or anything, but not even an award? Were you that shitty? After all those months, no no way you're gonna figure out what those judges were thinking because clearly they must have just skipped over yours or something. 

 

You glower and fidget in your place until people start to scatter and folders with scores are handed out to everyone. You eagerly take yours and open it up, flipping through the sheet music to get to the judges notes.

 

Rating: Excellent

 

“Very stiff performance.”

 

“Technically sound, but no feeling especially for a nocturne.”

 

“As artistic as a bridge, good but no heart.”

 

“You looked more uncomfortable than I felt listening to it.”

 

“Great!”  
You read through it all, your stomach twisting and knotting, your apparently non-existent heart dropping; you feel empty, maybe a little angry too. You spent so.long. on this piece, you were so excited, Dave even texted you good luck and everything too. It was your first competition in college and you absolutely blew it, sure you've done some recitals before, but those were mostly participation trophies and easy superiors. To say you feel heartbroken is an absolute understatement; you need a cake, you'd even settle for evilness that is Crocker at this point.

You trudge on, stopping by an HEB to pick up whatever cake hasn't been sold yet by the bakery, slowly making your way back to your dorm. It all goes by in a blur, you feel like your drifting through the streets, it's really pathetic. You just want to dive into this cake and nap, forever. Eternal nappings, yeah that sounds good.

You close the door to your room and sigh a big heaving dramatic sigh, the kind soap opera actors do, as Dave looks up from his computer.

"Hey dude how'd it go?"

You reiterate your sigh.

"Shit."

You flop onto your bed, opening the cake box and sticking a finger in; fuck forks, who even needs those.

"So what happened."

"The judges hated me."

"Dude fuck no, I've hear your stuff no one could possibly hate you."

"Read for yourself."

You toss him the folder and decide, fuck it, best way to have cake is to have it full on in your face, right? Just like a pie. So you just plop your dumb face into the cake and start chomping.

"'Has no heart' I can't fucking believe that you've got more piano passion than- ...dude."

You slowly rise your head up as pieces of cake fall off your glasses. Crap you forgot about those.

"My life is forfeit Dave, nothing matters except this cake."

"This is just a setback, you can get back from this. Those judges don't know who the fuck they're talking about. Your John Mcfuckin Egbert, dorky bucktooth extraordinaire with majestic piano fingers like a gazelle. Well gazelles don't have fingers but they're hella graceful and that's what counts, even when being attacked by a lion, shits so graceful it's like god made a ballerina and a deer have sex and this was their twirling lovechild who-"

"Dave."

"Yeah I know."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do about this, I've been playing piano for years Dave, years! ...Maybe this is the end of the line for me."

"Bro that's blasphemy, you can't give up."

"What's the point of it all."

You slump back and your head almost hits the wall, more cake falling off your glasses and probably staining your shirt.

"Let's get this cake out of the way first, Deborah of House Downer, I don't wanna get my intervention on if I have to but I will."

He gets up and gently takes the cake box out of your hand as if you were a rabid dog ready to bite him; you briefly consider it. 

"Alright so the judges said you have so feeling in your playing, no big deal, you've get everything else down right?"

"Yeah."

"That's a helluva lot John, so now you only have one thing left to do. Not so bad, right?"

You let the thought sit for a bit. Yeah, ok when he puts it like that it isn't so bad you guess, still sucks that after all that effort you're still not good enough.

"I guess so."

"Hell yeah, we can figure this out, you and me. Our Broship is gonna transcend those judges minds with how much feeling is gonna pour from your dainty little fingers."

"Says the guy who never shows any emotion ever."

He gasps, the dork.

"John you wound me. Look at me, emoting this, much many emotes happening right now."

He's slowly falling to the ground and you can't help but giggle a bit.

"I'm dying John, you've killed me with your words. Sob."  
You begin laughing a bit more.

"It doesn't work if you just say sob."

Dave gets you smiling and laughing again, and the two of you resolve to get working on figuring out this whole feelings thing tomorrow, cause right now you need to beat him in Mario Cart as per usual.

*

You take your keyboard from where you have it tucked away in the corner, setting it up with sheet music even though you really don't need it.

"Ok Beethoven, get playing"

You set your fingers down in their familiar places, running through a few notes ahead in your mind as you begin to play, anticipating where your fingers go here, and then here. You get every note right, of course, following the muscle memory you've built over the past few months. You're doing pretty well if you say so yoursel-

"Stop stop, ok I get it now. You're a plank John, you get all tense and your face just more chill than me."

"Everything's more chill than you."

"Regardless, I think I see what those judges were talking about. You look like you hate it."

"What?"

"Yeah like, sure you're playing the piece great but everything's the same tempo and the notes are right but it's like a DMV employee who's sick of their job just saying 'next' after each person, the each person being the notes in this case and you being the DMV employee."

"Well what am I supposed to do about it?"

Dave sits there for a moment and you pout at him. Sure he's probably right but you can't help getting a little huffy and offended when your best friend basically tells you that you suck.

"Maybe try moving your body with the notes."

"Like how."

"I dunno, sway and sashay this shit."

You screw up your brows but whatever you guess you'll give it a shot. You start over again, this time leaning left and right but it feels so uncomfortable and a little embarrassing and you begin messing up notes.

"Alright no that doesn't work, hmm."

"Dave this is going nowhere, how the heck am I supposed to be feeling the music. Shouldn't being technically good be enough?"

"Well you wanna get superiors and score well with competitions, right?

"Well sure but-"

"Then we've gotta keep trying come on. Let's try leaning for forwards back this time."

"Okayy."

You sigh and do it all again, this time leaning back and forth and it feels a little better but to be quite honest, you just can't get into playing the music when you're moving all wacky waving inflatable arm man.

"Nope this ain't working either."

"How do people move while playing music it just doesn't feel right. How is that supposed to show heart??"

"I dunno, I know at least Bro bops his head and does a swaying thing when he's playing his mixes."

"But that's different, it's more like has listening to it than playing it. He's just dancing."

"Actually, Bro plays a lot of instruments, he makes some of his own loops and melodies himself."

"Really?"

"Yeah, shit, shit hey Egderp I've got an idea for ya."

"This time lean around in circles?"

"No, go talk to Bro. He's actually a musical fucking genius, shit yeah he'd have some real good ideas for you."

"Bro? You're Bro? The one who unironically ironically wears leather gloves and looks like a jackass?"

"What other Bro do you know."

"What could he teach me that I don't already know, it's not like he's playing classic music all the time."

"Well maybe that's just what you need, some jackass in ya."

"What does that mean??"

"Like, learn to get funky with it dude. You're too stuck up in the pretentious classical nature of all this, loosin up a little."

Bro? Really? That's gonna be a little awkward isn't it? What are you supposed to do, 'Yeah hey Bro teach me how to piano duggy', although he'd probably actually do that. You think about it for a bit and yeah, it's not like you have any other ideas going on, but still the whole prospect itself is kinda weird!

"Sure I guess, bluh."

"Sweet, I'll text him. He's really not a bad dude."

"If you say so."

You've visited Dave's place a few times and met Bro, but really only when he's ordering food for you two or just in passing. Most of what you know about him is from Dave, and also that one time you googled what a smuppet was and that scarring experience only lasted a few seconds before you shut your entire computer down.

"He says you can come over this weekend. He's got gigs at night but he can show you his shit in the day."

Wait does that mean-

"He wants me to stay over?"

"Yeah, but you've stayed over plenty of times."

"Not without you!"

"Man it's no big deal, I've lived with him all my life and I turned out ok, right? . . . .ok don't answer that. Point is, s'not so bad, just a weekend. You wanna figure out this piano thing or what."

"Alright alright, I'll go."

"Dude this is gonna be rad, my two Bros."

He sniffles.

"It makes a man cry."

"Shut up Dave, you dork."

He chuckles at you and the rest of the day falls into its usual paces. As does the rest of the week, continuing on with classes and homework and practicing. You think about spending time with Bro during this, wondering what he could possibly teach you. Maybe he's going to use Cal the whole time, the weirdo. Dave always says he's cool but a dude fucking smuppets all day? Yeah as if. But he is intimidating so there is that. Still though, there's a part of you that's looking forward to it if only to figure out how to play better, maybe a new perspective really is what you need.  
Dave lets you borrow his truck to take it to Bro's just an hour and a half away, not that bad of a drive. But still, you can't help the way your fingers drum against the steering wheel, or the way you chew on your lip. Dave kept reassuring you that all would be fine, 'he's a cool dude' yeah sure if he doesn't kick your ass or whatever. Well who knows, maybe he won't do that. And that's part of the problem, you don't really know what you're getting yourself into here.

You pull up to the driveway and you clench onto the steering wheel, taking a deep breath. Then hop on out with your overnight bag and go to the front door, knocking on it.

"Come in."

You hear the voice inside, as if this were just another dorm room that almost anyone could watch in and not an Actual House. But regardless of how disgruntled that makes you, you head on inside as instructed. Following through the vaguely familiar hallway to the living room where you see Bro swiveling around from where he sits at his computer, just in time to greet you with a classic-

"Sup."

"Heya Bro."

You shuffle nervously in place and Bro throws a nod at you.

"Throw your stuff wherever and pull up a chair."

He turns back to his computer, and you toss your bag onto the couch, getting a chair from the kitchen table and sliding it over to him. But you keep a bit of distance, guy's still intimidating after all.

"So Davey said you needed some music help? Thought you were a piano genius."

The compliment doesn't pass you by, if anything your insides flutter a bit. But it's quickly shit down.

"Yeah I thought so too. Judges thought I had no feeling or 'heart'."

"You're kidding me. I've heard you yammer on about nic cage for hours, the fuck is 'no heart'."

"Well apparently I've got none! Instead of a heart it's just a nic cage encyclopedia."

You slump down in you chair and pout.

"For some reason Dave thinks you can help though so, it's worth a shot."

He nods and clicks a few things, pulling up a music program and probably opening a mix. It's now that you notice he's got a small synth keyboard on the desk.

"You've heard some of Dave's rappin right?"

"Yeah."

"Taught him everything he knows, but that's less than half the shit I know."

That gets you to raise an eyebrow a bit. Dave is pretty good sure, but if Bros even better then that's something to listen.

"Before I can help you with that, I gotta see you play. Here."

He hands you the keyboard and you place it on your lap. It's got about 2 octaves and then some so most stuff is doable if a little tight.

"Play whatever you want lemme hear it."

He turns towards you, his arms crossed and his face an impassive stare. You feel like you're in the spotlight again, on stage with a weight of anxiety on your chest. But just like there you stride forward and your fingers take their place, and you begin to play.

You end up playing the same nocturne as before, skipping notes that the keyboard doesn't reach but it doesn't impede the song. You play it just like you did for the competition, your fingers fluid and gliding across the keys, hitting every note. Unlike Dave, Bro doesn't stop you which you appreciate, though it does give a spike of uncomfort. Does he hate it? Is he just being a dick and making you ride this out? No no, he's probably just trying to get a sense of it all, right? You can't tell, he doesn't even show any emotion on his face whether he likes it or not and that's a bit infuriating itself but you keep playing. It's the longest 5 minutes of your life.

When you finish, you slowly look back at him for any sign of, well really just anything. He takes a moment before nodding and turning back to the computer.

"S'good, real good, but I can see what they were talkin about."

You sigh and grumble a bit.

"Yeah so what am I doing wrong."

"This is a case where I can't just tell you and you memorize and do it. I'm gonna try to teach it to you. Your too stiff and in your head, not in the music."

"How are you gonna teach me this if you're 'too cool' for emotions and stuff?"

You repeat the same thing you said to Dave, after all Bro taught him everything he knows, right? But then Bro does something weird; he turns to you and smiles.

"I'm a fully realized creation John. I've got emotions and everything, believe it or not."

The absurdity makes you snort and you can't help but share the smile.

"Alright alright, what's first then."

"Hmm, take a listen to this. Gonna be playing it tonight at the club and I think you might get a kick out of it."

He presses play on the computer and leans back, allowing music to begin playing from the speakers. It's a remix of different classic pieces joined together by trance beats and synth notes. It actually sounds pretty good, you even start tapping your foot a little to the rhythm of it. Bro actually made this? This is good, really good. You wonder what he'd sound like if he sat in front of a piano. The classical melodies blend really well with the techno touch ups and add ons, beats flowing well together, it swells and rises, falls and softens. You can almost feel your heart drumming along with the music.

Then the music fades out, and you're left in a bit of a stunned silence taking in what you just heard.

"Good, right?"

You manage to nod.

"Hah, yeah. One of my more 'vanilla' ones but it has its charm."

"I didn't realize you were so good."

"Thought I was only good for swords and porn?"

"Basically!!"

He chuckles at you.

"So how does it get me to feel?"

"To make remixes like this, you gotta get into the music, reeallly get into it. Feel the rhythm and the rhymes, and let it flow."

"Are we talking about the same thing?"

"If you tried remixing your piano piece, what would you do."

You really wouldn't know where to even start, how do you even do this kind of thing?

"I uh, I don't know."

"Exactly. You need some creativity in it."

He turns the monitor towards you and begins walking you through what he did for the remix. He shows you the different splits and tells you why he split it there, what this part made him feel, why he added this and that and why. He walks you through every step that he took and it's all a little overwhelming but you think you're catching onto a few things. Most of it goes over your head, but you finally feel like you're getting somewhere. Bro actually explains a few things really well in his own way, but you can tell that he has a background in music theory and it surprises you. Then you start feeling a little bad about it surprising you and your impressions of him, but that quickly sheds as you're enraptured by what he has to say. 

In fact you're so focused on Bro that time passes quickly and soon he has to leave for the club; you feel pretty disappointed, what he was saying was really interesting.

"Feel free to dick around on the program while I'm gone, put some of the stuff I told ya to good use. Also there's some leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry, knock yourself out."  
You nod along and he heads out with all of his DJing equipment. Bro was actually really smart and helpful and it starts to gnaw at you. This might actually be really helpful, plus he's actually a genius when it comes to this stuff, who knew?? You take over his chair, feeling the warmth of where he just once was; it's a little comforting. And you start doing as he says, you mess around with the splices of music and try to remember hwat he told you, how when the bass line does this, it feels like that, so you want to follow that emotion with its own kind of rhythm. The instrument is important too, and you start messing around with the different midi settings and istruments on file, playing around with the synth again but this time it sounds different according to the settings you select. 

There's one part of the song, some Schubert piece, that you start to focus on. You play a few of the notes and start thinking of different ones to add, different rhythms of the same, an underlying harmony that adds some depth. It's actually pretty fun, fun enough that you don't hear your stomach growl.

You're playing back some of the stuff you've made and sure it's not Bro quality, but it doesn't sound half bad. Bro seems to think so too as he walks in at holy shit 3am?? 

"Damn you made that?"

"Yeah!"

"Fucking nice."

You beem and almost preen a little.

"Didya eat somethin?"

Oh shit.

"No, I guess not."

"Want chinese?"

"Sure!"

He walks over and plops down on the couch, pulling up his phone and giving a quick call for some late night chinese delivery from a place that knows him as their favorite customer. He tells you that he's a bit exhausted with music himself after being in a sweaty club with fine beats as his own becoming a monotonous mess, so he'll take a look at what you've got tomorrow. He turns on the tv and sighs as he flips through the channels, and it's not like you've got much else to do so you join him, sitting down on the other side until he finally decides on abc that happens to be playing that Tim Allen Santa Claus movie. It's pretty darn good if you say so yourself. Bro laughs

"This is so shitty I love it."

"Shitty?? This is a cinematic masterpiece! Though it's no nic cage movie, I'll give you that."

"You're right on that, this is better than a nic cage movie."

He grins; is he teasing you?? The jerk!

"No way!! National Treasure and Con Air are easily better than this!"

"In an ironic way, sure."

"Oh no, don't go bringing irony into this!"

"Aww, irony is gonna get all lonely. It's looking at you with big ironic puppy dog eyes, how can you be so cruel."

"Irony can sit outside for a timeout and think about what's done, ruining perfectly good movies."

"I never realized you were so heartless John."

"I never realized you were so . . .an Idiot Bro."

He barks a laugh.

"Good one."

"Shuddup."

He laughs some more, and it's kind of infectious really; you start laughing too. You both surprisingly easily fall into a commentary of the movie, joking and critiquing, trading playful insults back and forth. It's comfortable and you're really enjoying yourself, especially when the food arrives. You both stuff your faces as you continue watching and commenting as if it's something you've been doing together your whole lives.

But after all, it’s past 3 a.m. and it doesn’t take long for you to get sleepy and to start yawning.

“Feel free to take Davey’s room, or the couch, wherever is fine.”

He stands up and stretches, his shirt slides up just a few inches to give you a rather good peak at the dimples on his lower back. It’s, hm, kind of hot. But the sight is soon covered again and you feel a bit embarrassed for even thinking that and you shove it off to the side.

“Gonna head to sleep m’self. See ya tomorrow John.”

He gives you a nod, one of those small chin thrusts that exude broness but you find yourself returning it. It’s kind of douchey but somehow Bro makes it seem like something special, especially when he says your name. Wait what?

You’re too tired to think too hard about anything, and you shuffle yourself into Dave’s room and fall onto the bed. Mmmmbed so nice, so soft, best bed. You don’t even know when exactly you fall asleep, you just do and pretty quickly too.

You find yourself waking up very groggily and bleary eyes, not sure where you are at first. But then you see the walls covered in posters and katanas. It’s been awhile since you’ve been in Dave’s room, you remember seeing some of it through webcams and the very few times you’ve visited. It’s pretty darn cluttered. You should tell him to clean up more. Not that he’s any better in your shared dorm room though.

You get up and yawn and shuffle out the door and into the kitchen, eyes still adjusting to being awake behind your glasses but you think you see Bro there, pouring coffee. He doesn’t look tired at all, doesn’t even look like he slept, you think he might even be smiling. It kind of pisses you off. You’ve never been a morning person.

“Mornin’ sunshine.”

“Mmmfmmf.”

Is the genius and eloquent thing you say. Whatever it’s the morning. Fucking, look at Bro all cheery and drinking his coffee, it looks like he even has a spring in his step as he’s opening the cupboard, the fucker. People always seem surprised whenever they find out you’re not a morning person, but you can’t be expected to be cheery all the time. Especially when Bro is shoving a mug in your face and smiling all smug and oh- it’s for you.

“Thmks”

You take a sip of the coffee and shit is it good, all of your problems are solved, world peace has been achieved. You sip more.

“What do you have to be cheery about?”

“I take it you haven’t subscribed to morning routines?”

“I’m in college, what do you think.”

“Morning’s are the best time of day. You can get a lot done.”

“Dave’s told me you had a habit of waking him up with strifes.”

“Like I said, you can get a lot done.”

You lean against the counter and sip your coffee while Bro goes around doing his thing, organizing some felt and orders that are ready to ship, checking e-mails and whatnot while the two of you chatter away. You grumbling and grousing and Bro answering back amused and unfazed. 

Eventually he motions over for you to join him at the desk again and you drag yourself over. And he begins playing what you made yesterday.

Suddenly you’re a little nervous and twitchy. It’s not like Bro’s expecting much anyway right? You’ve never used a program like this before, let alone played many other instruments besides a piano. 

You watch him from the corner of your eye, trying not to be too obvious as you gage his reactions. Its terrifying. The song plays and all he has is his dumb poker face. Did you screw up?? Oh god just how awful is it?? You thought it was pretty good and decent but you also thought you were going to get a superior before so your musical judgement is a little out of whack these days.

The song ends and you think you're having a heart attack. Bro isn't saying anything, nothing at all, what the fuck??? Cmon Bro say something!! Tell you that this was awful! This was a mistake! That you dont have a chance at improving! You clutch your hands on your knees and look down. He hates it doesn't he? He totally does. There goes your musical career down the drain.

Suddenly you feel his broad hand clasp your shoulder and you look up. He's smiling, it's small but he's smiling! 

“That was really good John. I thought it might take a few days for us to get there but you learn quick.”

Alright now you're having two heart attacks. The hand on your shoulder burns but holy shit it's so nice, like a hug but not. Shit you could practically hug him right now as your smile grows wide enough to make your face numb. To hell with it.

You launch yourself at Bro, wrapping your arms around his neck and sighing happily. He stills for a moment, before lightly patting your back. “Thanks!!”

“Yeah yeah, okay easy there I'm a delicate package,” he says, though hugging you back a little more. “Let's see you play on those sweet ivories, alright?”

You nod and let go of him, almost regretting it as not hugging Bro is the single worst decision in your life. He's very warm, and big, and strong. Not that you like him in a homo way, you're just appreciating another man, that's all. Yes, your blush is just from over excitement and your dick doesn't know what it's on about twitching like that.

Bro gives you the synth again and your crack your knuckles, positioning your fingers over the keys and taking a deep breath. You play the same tune you had before and many times before, letting your fingers run across the keys. Your head begins to bob and sway slightly, you notice, nodding along with the rhythm. Now you finally understand a bit of what Dave was saying before, about swaying and all that. You're finally getting the hang of this!

But then Bro stops you, “Okay okay, hmmm. That was better, definitely seeing improvement but not as fast as I'd like to with your mix.”

You slouch and frown.

“You don’t happen to have any other careers on the back burner, do you?”

Oh well now he's just pushing it, “Hey! You don't have to be that mean, alright?”

Bro huffs a laugh, “Easy, it ain't an insult, just figuring a new direction.” His voice is calmer and his eyes softer, quieting your flare of anger. Well, alright, doesn't seem all that bad.

“Comedian.”

“Huh,” Bro leans back and strokes the stubble across his cheeks, “Alright then, play it again but this time tell me a joke when you do.”

What? He wants you to just tell him jokes while you play? “Uh, okay,” you place your hands on the keys and look at him, beginning to play while you think of a joke to tell him. You think through the many in your head before you figure one out, smiling at him while you continue to play.

“What's brown and sticky?”

“I dunno, what?”

“A stick!!” you laugh, that's one of your favorites for sure. Bro seems to find it amusing too as he smiles a little wider.

“Tell me another one.”

“What's the difference between a hippo and a zippo?”

“Dunno, you got me there.”

“One of them is very heavy, and the other is a little lighter!” you continue playing, already having your music memorized so looking at the keys is really a nonissue. Bro huffs a laugh and shakes his head. 

“Alright, one more.”

“Okay, this is another favorite, hold onto your butt Bro!”

“I'd rather you hold it for me.”

“What?” wait, did he actually mean that? Your face is turning red again and you mess up a note and man oh man do you want to hold his butt. It's probably very firm and strong and wow, okay, guess you are very homo for the Bromo.

“Go on, tell the joke.”

“Right, okay,” you say, gathering yourself up against and giggling to yourself. “Two ladies are sitting on a porch on Friday afternoon. Suddenly one lady sees her husband come up the street. ‘Oh boy,’ she says. ‘Here comes Frank with an arm load of flowers. Probably means I'm going to be on my back all weekend with my legs up in the air.’

“The other lady looks kind of confused and says, ‘Don't you have a vase?’”

Bro bursts out laughing, his head falling back as his chest heaves, grin apparent on his face. You finish up the song and sit up, beaming and proud of yourself for making him laugh. It's actually pretty infectious and you start laughing too. 

The two of you are sitting there laughing for a little while, Bro wiping a small tear from his eye (hell yeah you did that, you made Bro cry!) Before he looks at you and grins. “John, I think I figured out what we gotta do. Dunno if you realized but while you were telling your jokes, your playing was fuckin phenomenal. It's the exact kind of emotion you need while playing.”

“Really?” You look at him with wide eyes, you did it? You really actually did it?? 

“Yup,” he claps your shoulder again and nods, “I got an idea on how I'm gonna teach ya. It'll take a while, so I hope you're prepped for more overnights here.”

“Yeah!” you blurt out, then you calm yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat. Luckily Bro finds it amusing and laughs a bit.

“Good, you'll be spending a lot of time with me,” you can't deny how your chest flutters when he says that, “Think you can handle that?”

Uh, yeah???? Yes???? More than yes???? “ Um, I think so,” stupid John.

Bro ruffles your hair, “Great, I could definitely handle a little more John time. But down to business, have you ever heard of Tom Lehrer?”


End file.
